


Ripples 14

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Multiple Partners, Series: Ripples
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More problems occur as the three guys try to adjust to their new relationship.<br/>This story is a sequel to Ripples 13.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripples 14

## Ripples 14

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine, yet. 

Summary: Problems continue as the guys try to settle into their new relationship. 

Notes: Thanks to Jenn aka XFreak for the edits and the continuing support. 

Warning: If you don't like the idea of Jim and Blair being involved with Simon, read another story. 

* * *

Ripples 14  
by Grey 

Down on one knee, Jim carefully cleaned up the splintered glass and beer from the shattered bottle. "Hey, Chief." 

"Jim, Simon. What happened?" Blair dropped his keys in the basket and closed the door. He took off his wet jacket, gave it a quick shake, and hung it up beside the others on the hooks. Tossing back his damp curls, he took a seat beside Simon and kissed him, his lips just briefly touching his cheek. 

"Jim's having problems with his senses." 

"Problems? What kind of problems?" 

"His hands keep going numb." 

"Like after Danny died and he was going after his killer?" His body tightened, his voice tired and strained. 

"Ask him." Simon wrapped his arm around Blair's shoulder and pulled him closer. 

"Jim?" 

"It's not exactly the same, Chief. The hearing's okay, but my sense of touch has gone off." Jim stood up and carried the dust pan to the kitchen, trying his best not to look at Simon holding Blair so possessively, not wanting to think about Blair kissing Simon instead of him when he came in. 

"Anything else, man? What about yesterday when you had that episode in the elevator?" 

"What episode?" Simon glanced over at Jim near the counter, his voice concerned. 

"I got some kind of sensory spike. My hearing and sight went crazy for awhile." 

"Was this before or after you left my office?" 

"After, when I got home. Traffic was a bitch." Jim washed and dried his hands before he leaned against the support beam, his arms and ankles crossed. He didn't want to deal with his senses, not now, not with Blair and Simon both there hammering away at him. 

Shaking his head, Blair complained, "Man, I don't like this. Any other problems? Taste and smell doing okay?" 

"I'm fine now." 

Blair got up and walked over, caressing his face gently. "You sure?" 

"I'm sure, Chief." Meeting his blue eyes, Jim clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier." 

"You should be." 

"I know. How's Marshall?" 

Blair frowned and shrugged before turning away and sitting back down next to Simon. "He'll be okay. I don't want to talk about Drew. We need to figure this thing out with you first." 

"Everything's okay now." Jim settled into the chair across from the sofa, the back of his neck stiff, the pressure building up through the edge of his scalp. 

"I just worry. We need to know the triggers. Simon, have you noticed a pattern?" 

"I'm right here. You don't have to talk about me like I'm some lab rat in the other room." 

"I'm not doing that." 

Jim didn't argue, but leaned forward, rubbing his temples with both hands. 

"I think Jim's having problems because he's afraid he's going to lose us." 

Jerking his head up at the words, Jim interrupted, suddenly defensive. "I didn't say that, Simon." 

"No, I said it. What you said was you're afraid Blair and I could be happy together without you." 

"He said that?" 

"I'm not an expert, but I think Jim's senses are connected to his emotions. He started having these problems when you wanted to see me alone and then again today when you went to see Marshall." 

"Oh, man, Jim. That's what I was trying to tell you before." 

Uneasy, Jim crossed his arms and sat back, the pressure of the truth settled right between his eyes and spreading slowly into a steady thumping across his forehead. "I don't see how they could be connected." 

Blair talked with his hands, punctuating his words, his fingers never quite still. "Of course, they're connected. Tell me how you feel when you think of me or Simon leaving you." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, how do you feel? Scared, angry, what?" 

Swallowing hard, unsettled by the whole conversation, Jim got up and paced the room. It took him several moments before he finally spoke. "This is really hard for me." 

"I know, man, but try. It's important. Tell me how you feel." 

"I feel pissed, but more scared than anything." 

"Why?" 

"Why? Why do I feel pissed or scared?" 

"Either one, man." 

Jim stopped in front of the window, watching the rain, wishing he didn't have to admit his own terror. "I'm afraid of myself, of what I'll do or say. I hate being such an asshole. I hear myself say shit and think, why the hell did I say that? And then I get angry at myself for not being able to control it." 

"And losing control of your senses might be your way of punishing yourself for that." 

Jim looked back at Blair, the younger man's face tight and earnest. "You think I do it on purpose?" 

"No, man, I don't. I think you lose control of your senses because you lose control of yourself. You can master both, but it takes practice." 

Simon turned to Blair and asked, "What kind of practice?" 

"I don't know exactly. I need to think about it. I do know that Jim doesn't always realize he's doing it when he's doing it. We have to teach him to recognize it when it happens and set up consequences if he fucks up." 

" _He's_ standing right here, Chief." 

"I know, man. I'm sorry. I'm just saying we've got to work on this thing together." 

"But it's my problem." 

"No, it's not, Jim." Simon stood up and walked over, pulling him in his arms. "You belong to us as much as we belong to you. We've got as much to lose as you do. We're a team here." 

"He's right, man." Blair joined them and lightly petted both of their faces. "I don't know about you two, but all this bonding shit has made me seriously hungry." 

"Hungry, Chief?" 

Licking his lips suggestively, his eyes focused on first Jim and then Simon, he smiled. "I figure if Jim orders Chinese now, I can finish you both before it gets here." 

Blair headed up the stairs with Simon and called back over his shoulder. "Hurry, man. I've been thinking about this all day." 

Worries forgotten, Jim's whole body tingled in anticipation, his senses working fine and dandy while his fingers punched in the numbers as fast as he could. While he ordered the meal, Simon moaned above him, his smoky scent wild and thick in the air. 

Hanging up, he raced upstairs just as the older man bucked up and came like thunder, his body arched and his cock still engulfed in Blair's mouth. Tendons ribbed his neck, sweat trailing ebony skin, his eyes closed in surrender. 

As Blair released him, he turned his blue eyes invitingly toward Jim as he wiped his lips. "Come on, man. I want you." 

Gulping, his breathing labored, Jim kneeled on the bed while Blair reached out to unzip and rid him of his jeans and boxers. Free, his cock in Blair's eager hand, he groaned and let Blair guide him to his back beside Simon. Recovered and still greedy, Simon rolled closer and captured his lips, his tongue pushing in as Blair licked the tip of his cock, followed with the slightest flicks along the underside, the vein pulsing. Mouth ravished, large hands held his head captive. Blair rolled his balls and frenzied the air with purpose. His brain swelled into a swirl of color, Jim's belly tightened and coiled, the ribbon of heat winding up through his middle. 

More suction below, Simon nipping at his neck, lifting his shirt, licking his nipples, his lovers working in tandem, it all overwhelmed him. Everything narrowed to the single need, the thrust of hips held down by Blair's skillful hands as he controlled contact, spread his thighs further, his beard burning tender skin. Struggling up, Simon forced him back down again as Blair continued the torture his cock, the intensity of pleasure swamping his lungs, steaming his brain into a sudden clap of release as he drew in just enough air to keep screaming. Coming swallowed him whole, turned light into mere shimmers and shakes as he trembled. Simon held him closer as Blair crawled up and wrapped himself along his other side, kissing him, sharing his essence, sharing the taste of all three at once. 

Closing his eyes against the sting of completion, he cherished the moment, relished the dream that both men loved him as much as he needed them. 

* * *

Nervous, Simon knocked on the door of his ex-wife's house and waited. After a few seconds, Joan answered, her face a mask of control. "Simon. Come in." 

Once inside, Simon looked around, ancient moments of intimacy haunting each corner. Shaking off his anxiety, he steeled himself for whatever she might have waiting. "You want to tell me what's going on? Why'd you hire a detective to investigate me?" 

"You want coffee?" 

"No, I want answers." 

"Don't use that tone with me. I'm not one of your suspects." 

"Then don't act like one." 

"Fine." Joan crossed her arms, her dark face serious and unhappy. "I wanted to know what you were up to with that detective." 

"What detective?" 

"You know which one. That one you always used to talk about. Ellison." 

"We work together." 

"All night? You never had any detectives stay all night when we were together." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"He's stayed over at your place twice now. I need to know what's going on." 

Simon shook his head and walked over to the sliding glass doors, his back to Joan. "Why is it your business? We're divorced." 

"Are you sleeping with him?" 

Keeping his face neutral, Simon turned to face her. "What's this really about, Joan? Are you asking me if I'm gay? You of all people know better than that." 

"I know you better than you think I do. I'm not stupid, Simon. I know about bisexuals and I know what you like. You sleeping with a man wouldn't surprise me." 

"Jesus. What do you want from me?" 

"I want to know that my son's safe. That you're not carrying on in front of him or making a fool of yourself so that you lose your job and can't even support him." 

Suddenly angry, Simon stepped closer, looking down into the face of a woman he once loved, but a person he no longer recognized. "I love my son, Joan. Don't even think about doing anything to keep me from seeing him." 

"He worships you. Wants to be like his father." She spat out the last word, her voice choked. "What's it going to do to him if he finds out you're a faggot fucking some white man you work with? What do you think that's going to do to him?" 

Hands fisted, Simon backed away, the force of the words stunning. Bitter, forcing his rage into practiced containment, he hissed. "I didn't raise my son to be a bigot, Joan. If he's got that kind of ugliness inside, he didn't get it from me. Is that the kind of heritage you want for him, to hate his father because of who he happens to fall in love with?" 

"Love? How can you say that after what we had together?" 

"I can say it because it's true. Now, my question to you is this, what are you going to do about it?" 

Sinking to the sofa, her hand on the back to steady herself, Joan spoke softly. "I hate thinking about you with him." 

"It's got nothing to do with you." 

"I know that. You're a good man, Simon. Lord knows, we've had our differences, but I've always respected you. You've always been honest and a good father. But this gay thing, I don't know what to do. My faith tells me what you're doing is wrong." 

"You know I'd never do anything to hurt Daryl." 

"Then give this man up before it's too late." 

"Too late?" 

She looked up in distress, her voice shaky. "You're a police captain, a black man in a position of power. Some people would love to see you smeared and run out of the department. It only took a few days to get enough information to suspect what you were doing. How long do you think it'll be before some enemy finds out? You could lose your job, Simon. Worse, you could lose Daryl. His father the great detective run out because he's a queer sleeping with a subordinate. He'd be humiliated." 

Simon sat down next to Joan and took several deep breaths before he trusted himself to speak calmly. "Everything Sanders found was circumstantial. There's nothing anyone could use against us, not legally. We're being careful." 

"You know the power of the rumor, Simon. I was your wife long enough to know how cops can be. They can be the worst when it comes to intolerance. Remember when you got promoted?" 

"That was just a few redneck assholes, Joan." 

"Doesn't matter. They still harassed you. I'm just afraid of what could happen. I know I sound like a bitch. I'm sorry. I don't want my son hurt by all this." 

"He won't be unless you plan to tell him." 

"I don't have to tell him. He'll find out, Simon. He's as bad as you are about figuring things out. He's going to notice." 

"Then, when I think he's ready or if he asks, I'll tell him." 

"What if someone says something first?" 

"Like you?" 

"I'd never do that." Joan touched his hand lightly, a tear running down her cheek. "No matter what happened between us, you're still the father of my son. He loves you." 

"And you?" 

"I don't know what I'm feeling right now except that I'm scared for all of us." 

Squeezing her hand, Simon stood up. "Don't worry. I'm going to be more careful." 

"But you won't give this man up?" 

"No. I love my son, Joan, but I have a right to a private life, too." 

"As long as it's private. If something happens and people find out, what are you going to do?" 

"Whatever I have to." 

* * *

Blair removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, the stress of waiting more than he wanted to deal with. 

"Chief, you okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine." He put his glasses in his pocket and checked the time again. "When do you think Simon will be back?" 

"I don't know. You worried?" 

"A little." Closing his folder, he put it on the desk and hesitated before he finally spoke. "I never met Joan. What's she like?" 

Looking up from the monitor, Jim shrugged. "She's okay, I guess. It's hard to say. I only met her a few times. I got the feeling she didn't like cops much, though it could've been she just didn't like me." 

"No way, man. Everybody loves Ellison." 

"Smartass." Leaning back, his hand to his chin, Jim spoke quietly. "I remember one night Simon invited me for dinner. She wasn't rude, but it was pretty obvious she didn't like me being there. At the time I just chalked it up to them going through a rough patch because it was right before they separated." 

"Did Simon ever say why they split up?" 

Uncomfortable, Jim sat back up and scooted closer to his desk. "Why does anybody end a marriage, Chief? Carolyn and I were happy, or I thought we were and then all of a sudden I couldn't do anything right." 

"All of a sudden?" 

"Yeah, one minute we're in bed together and the next she'd be pissed off at something I'd have no clue about. It was like living in a mine field. I never knew when I might get my face blown off." 

"That must've been rough. Did you have any trouble with your senses then?" 

Jim met his serious blue eyes and shook his head. "My senses never bothered me until the bomber case when I met you." 

"Not even in Peru?" 

Jim swallowed hard and pushed further away, his eyes narrowed. "Peru?" 

"Yeah, in Peru did you ever have a problem like you're having now?" 

"I don't get what you're asking." 

Edging in closer, Blair studied his partner's shadowed face, noting the quick defenses. "Calm down, Jim. I'm just asking if you ever got jealous and had sensory spikes then, that's all." 

"Why would I get jealous in Peru?" Before Blair could say anything else, Jim lifted a hand. "It doesn't matter. I don't remember much about that time. It's all kind of foggy. I mean, I know it happened and I remember certain people and being there, all the day-to-day rituals and trying to survive, but it's hazy, not quite real. It's almost like it happened to somebody else." 

"It's called trauma." 

"Yeah, maybe." 

Before Blair pursued the subject, Jim frowned and sat back. "Marshall's here." 

"Drew?" 

"In the elevator. Want me to leave?" 

"Why should I?" Holding up a cautionary finger, Blair warned. "Be good, man. We haven't discussed consequences." 

"You're not my mother, Sandburg. You don't get to discipline me if I do something you don't like for christsakes." 

"I'm serious, Jim. You act like an asshole and you're going to pay for it later." 

"I'm not a child. I know how to act." 

"Yeah, right." Blair stood up just as Drew entered the bullpen. Dressed in a grey suit and cleaned up nicely, the older man made for a striking contrast to the casual dress of the cops around him. "Drew, what's going on, man?" 

"I need to talk to you. It's important." 

"This couldn't wait, Marshall? We're on duty." 

"Blair's not a cop, Ellison, at least not yet and I hope to god never." 

Blair stood between the two men, shaking his head and raising a hand to halt the conversation. "Hold it, you two. Jim, go file a report or something." 

"I work here." Staring, his face commanding, Blair didn't repeat the request, but merely stood there until Jim reluctantly shrugged in surrender. "I'll be in records." 

As soon as he left, Blair turned his attention back to Drew. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine. Is there some place we can talk in private for a few minutes? This won't take long." 

"Sure. We can talk in Simon's office." 

"How cozy." 

Ignoring the sarcasm, Blair led the way into the other room and shut the door behind them. "Okay, what's going on?" 

"I just wanted to say I was sorry about yesterday. I wasn't myself." Pacing, Drew ran his hand through his hair several times before he continued. "No, that's not right. I was myself, but I don't like when I get that way. It's not you, Blair. I need to get away for awhile. I'm going to San Francisco. My agent wants to go over some things for my new book deal and I've got some friends there." 

"What about your classes?" 

Sitting on the edge of Simon's desk, his arms crossed, Drew smiled for the first time since his arrival. "That's one of the advantages of being famous. The school's good about giving me time off when I need it. And I need it." 

Nodding, relieved and saddened at the same time, Blair sighed. "I'm sorry you feel like you have to leave." 

"Don't be. Like I said, it's not you. I've got some things to straighten out and that has nothing to do with you. I just didn't want to leave without making sure you understood. I still love you and if friendship is what you want, then that's what we'll have." 

"Even with Jim in the picture?" 

Standing and patting him on the shoulder, Drew shook his head. "Don't ask me to socialize with the man, Blair. I'm not that good. Besides, I get the feeling he doesn't like me much, either." 

"It's not you, Drew." 

"It never is." Cupping his cheek lightly, Drew whispered, "Take care of yourself, okay?" 

"Sure. You, too." 

Without speaking, Drew turned and left, not looking back and heading straight out to the stairwell instead of the elevator. 

Watching his friend go, Blair took a deep breath, knowing that loving Jim and Simon didn't make the weight of regret any lighter. 

The end 


End file.
